Chapter Seven Lee #3
‘There’s that word again,’ Gran continues.
‘Nice. What I think of the man wouldn’t matter a bit if I thought you actually cared about him.
It’s been months and you’re drifting along.
And it’s wrong – for both of you – to drag out a relationship that you know in your heart is going absolutely nowhere. It’s cruel, Ophelia.’
Cruel? The word stops me in my tracks. Have I been cruel?
Gran continues in this vein, getting more and more heated, and the whole time she talks there’s an empty feeling in my chest; my stomach is hollow.
There’s enough truth in what she says to make me wince, but I don’t want to look at that right now.
I have more than enough going on. She sounds genuinely frustrated with me, like I’ve made her unhappy.
I don’t understand how we’ve ended up in this situation. We never argue.
‘I know you’ve always been quiet, self-contained,’ she’s saying now, ‘but this last year it’s like you’ve shut yourself off completely…’
‘I’m not like you,’ I manage. ‘I don’t need to live the kind of life you do.’
Gran huffs, a sound of exasperation. ‘I know that but you’re not acting like you.
I raised you, Lee. I know when something isn’t right.
I don’t know what’s happening, if it’s because of me, but you’re so distant all the time.
Cancelling all your trips, no socialising with friends, this business with Adrian. You’re so unfeeling, so… cold.’
Cold. It’s not the first time I’ve been called that.
I know my painfully introverted nature can be misread as being aloof or unfeeling, but it hurts to hear Gran say that.
To feel so misunderstood by the person who has always known me best in the world.
The irony is that her words have left something boiling inside me, something hot and messy, something that makes me feel out of control.
I swallow it down, fight for control, knowing as I do that I’m only proving her point.
‘I’m not cold,’ I say, trying to keep the hurt from my words.
‘I didn’t—’ she starts, but she cuts herself off, takes a breath. ‘I just think you’re playing it too safe,’ Gran continues stubbornly. ‘You’re burying yourself in work. You’re travelling less—’
‘Because I need to be here with you!’ I point out, exasperated.
Her lips flatten into a firm line. ‘No, you don’t, Lee!
I’m an adult and I don’t need a babysitter.
You act like you have to put your life on hold for me, but I never asked you to!
’ She glances at the blood pressure monitor clutched in my hand with obvious distaste.
‘I don’t need you… hovering over me and fussing all the time. ’
‘You had a heart attack!’
She scoffs. ‘Barely. And everyone made such a fuss over it.’
‘You had surgery.’ I try to keep my voice level. ‘You can’t just keep pretending it didn’t happen.’
‘The doctor says I’m perfectly fine and I’m sick of you using me as an excuse not to live your life, for turning into some sort of robot!’
She sounds angry now, properly angry, and my stomach dips; my heart is hammering in my chest. Every fibre of my being wants to get out of here.
‘It’s been a long day,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘I’m tired. I think I’m going to go and lie down.’
‘Lee, I’m trying to have an important conversation with you,’ she snaps, nettled. ‘Stop running away from me. You’re being ridiculous.’
‘I’m not running away. I told you. I’m tired.’
With that I leave the room, hoping she won’t notice the way my hands are shaking. I go back upstairs and get ready for bed. It’s not even that late, but all I want to do is pull my duvet over my head and forget this day even happened.
As I’m about to turn out the light, my phone buzzes.
I have a new email. And it’s from Nico. I steel myself for whatever he has to say about our situation, but when I finally open the email nothing has prepared me for his response.
Hi Lee!
Wow, that is a shock! I’m in the States right now. Why don’t you come out here so that we can talk about all of this in person? I’d love to see you. As soon as possible.
Lol
Nico x
#YOLO
Attached to this email is a plane ticket. To Portland, Maine. Leaving London tomorrow.
I blink at the screen, read the words again.
He’s just found out we’re married and he’d love to see me?
As soon as possible? We haven’t spoken for a year and he’s sent me a plane ticket?
What does that mean? Doesn’t he realise I can’t drop everything and fly to Maine? That would be reckless, impulsive.
That would be nothing like me.
My breath catches. The argument with Gran is too close to the surface, my heart is still tender from her words. She doesn’t need me here. She said as much. She thinks I’m not living my own life and I’m obsessing over hers instead.
She thinks I’m cold and closed off. A robot.
Is she right?
I get out of bed, my legs shaking as I pull out my suitcase and start throwing clothes inside. (By which I mean carefully folding them and packing them into my well-labelled packing cubes.)
When that is done I stand, still flooded with adrenaline. There’s something else I need to do. Something I can’t put off. Gran might have been wrong about a lot of things, but she was right about this.
I pull out my phone.
‘Hi, Adrian. We need to talk.’